


Blue Skies Ahead

by detectivephryne



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: And some fire for good measure, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Real Fire, You've been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 11:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17424665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detectivephryne/pseuds/detectivephryne
Summary: Phryne was looking forward to a quiet day at home (a rarity for her) but it's not to be. A fire appears fast and furious on the horizon, and things change in an instant.





	Blue Skies Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> Just a double warning: if fires give you any true anxiety, maybe skip this one. 
> 
> If not, enjoy!

**** It was late Monday morning and Phryne was luxuriating in the quiet of her home. Dot had taken a long weekend to go visit one of her sisters in Sydney who had just had her first child, Jane was still studying on the Continent, and Mr. Butler had planned a shopping day around Melbourne in the good hands of Cec and Bert. She knew for a fact that she would be undisturbed until the evening and she intended to use her time wisely.

 

Ordinarily, she loved her busy, bustling household. It was never boring and she couldn’t love the people who filled it more, but sometimes (very rarely) she enjoyed a day to herself. She had risen around ten and found the means to make toast and tea in the kitchen, which she ate while she ran the bath. She intended to soak in her bath for a long while, then read the new DH Lawrence and catch up on her correspondence for the afternoon, or maybe even take a nap if she felt like it. The day was hers to behold.

 

She was just turning off the taps in the tub when she heard a frantic knocking at the door. Never one to turn down a mystery, even if it meant potentially giving up her day, she tied her robe tighter around herself and made her way to the front of the house. When she opened the door, however, no one was there.

 

_ That’s odd, _ Phryne thought. She was absolutely positive as to what she’d heard, but maybe they realized they had the wrong house? Not that Wardlow was easily mistaken. Or perhaps it was a rowdy child playing a prank? She shrugged and went back inside, willing to let this particular mystery slide for now. She closed the door behind her, making sure to lock it just in case it was anything more, and made her way back up the stairs.

 

As she walked down the hall on her way back to the bathroom, she happened to catch a glance out her rear window through the extra bedroom of a most curious sight. There was something  _ flickering  _ out there, just beyond her backyard two hundred feet or so away, it looked large and close. She moved into the room for further inspection.

 

She recognized it instantly, but her mind took another moment to process: fire. It was wild and hot and dancing it’s way toward her quickly, driven by the winds. All the breath left her body in a gush of shock. The flames licked at the hill behind her home, and in that instant she knew it would be upon her fence in no time at all. Wardlow would almost certainly be it’s victim. She knew how fires worked and understood them to be ruthless beasts. She couldn’t out think it like she could a murderer. She only had one choice: she had to  _ move. _

 

She raced into her bedroom where she grabbed her jewelry case with her favorite pieces, the silver case containing Janey’s hair ribbons, and a couple of photo albums she had brought with her from England.  She then rushed downstairs to her desk to find her box of her most important documents, the ones she would have a terrible time replacing. She made her way out the side of the house to the Hispano and tossed her valuables into the trunk, slamming the door just as the first firefighters were arriving on the scene.

 

“Stay put, Miss!” one of the called upon seeing her hop in her motorcar. They moved around her and into her backyard carrying ladders and hoses to combat the blaze. She realized that their truck had trapped her in, and hoped they were planning to move it if the fire came any closer.

 

She jumped out of the Hispano and ran back into the house, figuring she’d use any extra time she had to gather up more of her belongings. She froze in the entry, unsure of what to do. She realized she was struggling to breathe, the smoke and her panic coming together and restricting her lungs from taking in a full breath. Each attempt sent shooting pains across her chest. She clutched at herself as tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes.

 

_ Now is not the time to fall apart, _ she told herself sternly. She moved toward the telephone without thinking. If she was going to handle this, she would prefer some back-up, someone to help if it got desperate.

 

Her fingers dialed the familiar number of their own accord and she silently begged someone to pick up when it rang three or four times without answer.

 

“I’ve got it, Hugh,” she heard through the line, at a distance and muffled as though he were trying to say it out of range from the listener on the phone. “City South,” Jack said, crisp and clear, the phone receiver up at his ear.

 

All rational thought left her at the sound of his voice. “My house is on fire,” she said without preamble. “Please, Jack, please come. Please.” She heard him talking too, but she couldn’t stop herself to listen. “Please, please, Jack, please.” 

 

She heard a loud bang outside and she dropped the phone, letting it hit the floor. When she snatched it back up, he was gone. She hoped he was on his way, but she wasn’t going to wait to find out. She first went into the kitchen and turned on the sink, leaning over to suck in the cold water. Her mouth was so dry and the ash in the air scratched her throat. She drank and drank but it wasn’t fixing the issue so she abandoned the cause and hightailed it back up the stairs to pack up what she could.

 

She was filling a trunk with clothing essentials, only having managed to grab some undergarments so far, when she heard Jack shouting from downstairs.

 

“Miss Fisher! Phryne!”

 

“Up here, Jack!”

 

He found her on the floor, a mostly-empty trunk of lady’s brassieres and panties in front of her. Her face was red and blotchy and her eyes watered slightly, though due to tears or the ash in the air, he couldn’t be sure. She was still in her dressing gown, but it had come unhinged in the chaos and the rest of her was only covered by the thinnest of slips. He guessed she probably wasn’t wearing any undergarments beneath it either.

 

“You need to leave. Forget the clothes.”

 

“They told me to stay. They’ll let me know if I have to go.”

 

“Let me help then. I’ll pack your clothes. Go figure out what else you want to save.”

 

He pulled her up and she wavered slightly, looking faint and paler than usual.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

She clawed at her throat with both her hands. “I can’t breathe,” she wheezed out. Jack’s eyes widened and he led her quickly to her bed where he sat them both down on the edge. 

 

“Close your eyes,” he instructed. “Take a deep breath.” He watched her start to inhale before a sharp whine of pain broke the silence. “It hurts?” he asked. She nodded, her eyes still closed. “Try again, smaller breaths, but slow.” She managed a few rasping breaths before her eyes flew open.

 

“I’m going to be sick,” she announced and flew out of the room to the bathroom. He followed her at speed, but hovered outside the door. He heard her gag a couple of times, but no sounds followed it and he knew she hadn’t actually vomited.

 

He screwed up his courage and pushed inside the door, finding her supporting herself with one hand on the counter, doubled-over and looking as miserable as he’d ever seen her.

 

“What do you need?”

 

“I don’t know. I’ll be fine. Can you pack the clothes?”

 

“Of course,” he replied, brushing his hand lightly over her back as she straightened herself and tried to regain her composure. He left the bathroom and made his way back into her room, grabbing things by the handful and stuffing them into the trunk without thought. He heard her come into the room and gather up a couple of items of clothing that were strewn across her floor. She left and came back a moment later, haphazardly dressed, but dressed all the same. He then watched her briefly as she snatched up picture frames and art off the wall, along with toiletries from her vanity. When they both had as much as they could carry, they made their way back outside and piled it all in the backseat of the Hispano. He had parked his police motor car at the end of the street, blocked from driving any further by barricades.

 

When it became clear that the Hispano was fully loaded and Phryne couldn’t think of another thing she would  _ desperately _ miss from inside, he led her out back and they watched for some time as the fire and its fighters battled back and forth, each trying to gain ground. Other onlookers and neighbors had made their way into her backyard as well, and they all watched in horrified awe. It was surreal, a sight to behold, otherworldly.

 

Jack put his arm around Phryne’s shoulders as they watched in silence. He felt the vibrations as she coughed pitifully and tried to suck in a full breath.

 

“We need to get you to see Mac.”

 

“I’m fine, Jack. I should stay here like they said.”

 

“You’re not fine, and there’s nothing more you can do here. Wardlow is not a ship; there’s no reason for you to go down with it.”

 

Tears filled her eyes at the words and she knew she was beyond the point of reason. She allowed him to lead her away and waited patiently as he had words with the firefighters by the truck, pulling out his badge to get them to move it far enough for her car to drive out. When they finally obeyed the command, he got behind the wheel and pulled away, both of them drinking in one last look at Wardlow lest it not be standing when they returned.

 

He got her to Mac as quickly as he could, only breaking the smallest of traffic laws, and stood vigil outside the examination room as she was looked over. It felt like an hour had gone by when Mac finally poked her head out and invited him in.

 

“I’ll go fill that medicine, Phryne. Wait here,” Mac said and then she was off.

 

“You’ll live?” Jack asked, trying to lighten the mood. She looked exhausted, utterly destroyed. He couldn’t bear to see her without her fight, but he supposed she had used more than her fair share today, pushing onward even when her body tried to shut itself down.

 

“Mac’s not pleased,” she remarked and tried for a mischievous grin, that came out looking more like a grimace. “I’ve been prescribed bed rest for the remainder of the day and some sort of tranquilizer.”

 

“You’ll be fine though? No lasting damage?”

 

“She didn’t find any trace of smoke in my lungs, only irritation in my throat which is less of a problem.”   
  


“Is that why you couldn’t breathe? It seemed painful.”

 

“Still is,” she admitted, rubbing her sore chest. She felt like she’d just had a heart attack or someone had whacked her in the breastbone. “Apparently I’ve suffered a rather large panic attack, and I’ll be feeling the effects for a week or so.”

 

Jack nodded solemnly. “Have you ever had one before?”

 

“Once or twice, right after the war.” When he didn’t comment she continued on. “They tend to happen more frequently to people with a history of them.”

 

“Did today… did it remind you of anything? Of your time in France?”

 

“The battlefield. Everything scorched and barren and black. The only color I ever saw in France was red: blood and flames and that cross on our white uniforms.”

 

Mac returned with the pills to ease her pain and lessen her anxiety, and grasped her friend tightly.

 

“Do you have a place to go? I’m on shift for nine more hours, but you’re welcome to use my home if you need it.”

 

“Thank you, Mac, but I’ll hole myself up at the Windsor and sleep this off.”

 

Mac nodded and bid them goodbye, making Jack promise to fill her in with any updates so she could call on Phryne in the morning.

 

“Would you mind driving me again, Jack? Mac gave me explicit instructions not to operate heavy machinery while on this drug. She gave me a heavy dose already.”

 

Jack agreed and made his way to the driver’s seat, while she climbed in the other side.

 

“The Windsor then, Jack,” she instructed.

 

“Come to mine,” Jack blurted out, his hands fidgeting on the steering wheel nervously. “I -- I may not have silk sheets, but I can make you something to eat… and I can keep an eye on you.”

 

Phryne fixed him with a withering stare, or as much of one as she could manage while her head felt like it was floating somewhere above her body. “I don’t need a babysitter, Jack.”

 

“You would be doing me a favor, Miss Fisher. I won’t be getting any work done today, and I’d rather not be alone, if it’s all the same to you. It’s been quite the day.”

 

Phryne huffed out a laugh. “Yes, it has been. All right then, to yours.”

 

A smile tugged at Jack’s lips as he drove home. This wasn’t exactly the scenario he’d envisioned for bringing her to his house for the first time, but he wanted to keep an eye on her for his own sanity. When her call had come in today, his heart had leapt out of his chest at the sheer desperation in her tone, and he didn’t think he had fully recovered yet. In fact, he was quite positive that the only cure would be a heavy dose of Phryne, seeing her safe and sound.

 

She was half asleep already when they pulled up at his home, the drug having taken its desired effect. He helped her out of the car and supported her into the small bungalow, passing his parlor and kitchen to make their way to his bedroom at the end of the hall. He placed her on the bed and helped her divest herself of her shoes and coat, but decided to leave her in her slacks and blouse for now. 

 

The last thing he did before drawing the blanket over her was set a tall glass of water on the nightstand by her head. She gazed up at him through unfocused eyes and murmured something he couldn’t quite hear.

 

“What was that?” he whispered back, not sure if it was something he needed to know or drug-induced ramblings.

 

“Blue,” she said, slightly clearer now. He looked around in confusion.

 

“The water?” he asked. Did she want some right now? Did she need help with it?

 

“Mhmm,” she agreed. “And this room… and your eyes.” She trailed off and he thought she was asleep, but then she spoke one final time. “Not red.”

 

He understood and felt his heart swell with love for her. After all the red, the war and the fire and the murders and everything else she had endured, and he as well, they were each other’s blue.

 

###

 

She slept for countless hours. When she awoke in the evening she seemed slightly better and he had the pleasure of telling her that Wardlow still stood. He had Hugh giving him progress reports on the situation, and it was clear that her home was out of immediate danger. That said, she wasn’t allowed back for a few days while the firefighters continued to monitor the area and put out any embers that would flame up in the days to come.

 

Mr. Butler, Cec, and Bert had been informed, and Mr. Butler was on his way to the Windsor now. They had also gotten ahold of Dot and convinced her to stay with her sister for the rest of the week, just in case.

 

Once all that was settled and Phryne felt her family was safe, she resolved to settle in at Jack’s for the foreseeable future at his insistence. He was cooking something in the kitchen while she dug through her trunk of clothes that had been placed in his small home office, looking for something more comfortable to wear.

 

Jack was just removing the chicken from the skillet when he heard a loud, joyful laugh coming from the next room. After the day they’d had, it sounded almost delusional, and he crossed the hall quickly to see what it was that caused such a reaction from her.

 

He stopped at the entrance of his office out of necessity. Every inch of the floor was covered in her clothing, and she was sitting in the middle of it, laughing so hard that tears ran down her face.

 

“Miss Fisher? What is it?” He was concerned now. He had never seen her like this, and had to assume it was a side-effect of the drug. All the same, he couldn’t stop the smile that graced his face at the wonderful sound.

 

“I can’t-- I can’t thank you enough-- Jack, for packing up-- some clothes for me,” she said between uncontrolled giggles.

 

His eyebrows came together in confusion. “You’re welcome?”

 

“Do you think I could borrow some pajamas though?” she asked, trying to contain herself, but only half succeeding.

 

“Anything you need,” he promised.

 

She bit her lip, but her teeth slowly slid off as her smile widened and her laughing began again in earnest.

 

“I may need rather a lot,” she finally got out. “You see, all you packed was evening gowns, Jack. Very, very formal evening gowns.”

 

A blush spread across his cheeks at his mistake. He took in the mass amount of beaded, sequined, silk gowns that scattered his floor, realizing now (too late) that none of these were something she could possibly wear during the day or around his home. 

 

Jack shook his head in embarrassment. He should have paid more attention to what he was grabbing, but instead he had just opened the closest dresser and packed its contents until the trunk was full. He hadn’t considered that she kept other types of clothes in other places and that it might make more sense to pull a few things from  _ each _ dresser rather than all of the things out of one. In fact, he really hadn’t been thinking at all. His entire mind on her and her breathing and the proximity of the fire outside.

 

She sobered slightly as he squinted and generally looked pained, but she couldn’t hold back for long. Soon enough, she was laughing again, a full-bellied joyful sound, and he couldn’t help but join in. The thought of her wearing his clothes around the house for the next few days didn’t hurt either… Things were starting to look up.

 

“I’ll get you something to change into now. Any preferences?”

 

“That’s a dangerous question, Inspector,” she flirted.

 

“Any preferences I’m willing to fulfill?” Jack clarified. Leave it to Miss Fisher to ask for a union suit or just a top or some nonsense.

 

“Something blue?” she asked softly now, her eyes wide and honest.

 

Jack smiled a small smile back. “Something blue, coming right up.”

**Author's Note:**

> This piece came about as more of a coping mechanism than anything else. I live in Southern California and (if you hadn't heard, idk how widespread the news coverage was) we had some pretty terrible fires back in November. For a little over a week, three of those fires were near my home, one of them reaching my backyard. I truly thought my home was a goner and I'm very very thankful for the incredible firefighters who were able to save it. It was terrifying and traumatic and still gives me anxiety to think about. But I wanted to write it, both commemorating that experience AND giving it to someone else (Phryne, in this case) to react to. Everything seems much more manageable when it's not happening to you, doesn't it?
> 
> Thank you if you've read this far and/or enjoyed it! I love this fandom so much!


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